Dean's Rules
by thoughtyouknewr
Summary: Sam's been having trouble with bullies at school, but hasn't told anyone. Dean's been acting like he doesn't care, but is there more to the story? John's been a bastard like normal, but will he regret it when Sam's secret comes to the light?
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own supernatural. The same goes for the rest of the story.**

**Usual warnings; some swearing, major cuddling, maybe a little OOCness. **

**This story starts out a little darker then the rest of mine. I can promise it gets better if you stick with it. **

Chapter 1 Sam's Secrets

Sam was having a hard time at school. Not that he would tell anyone. Not that he had anyone to tell in the first place. That was one of his many problems. The bullies at school had noticed he was a small seemingly easy target who no one cared about.

At first he had fought against them, but there were too many. The whole of the football teem had it out for him, not to mention the girls and even a few of the geeky kids who didn't like that he was smarter then them.

It had started out as just teasing. Sam could take teasing; no problem. The kids had guessed no one cared about him. They thought he was trying to please an unappeasable family with his devotion to school. Little did they know he caught hell about that same devotion at home from his father. Even his big brother seemed to be getting tired of him coming home bouncingly happy because he got a good grade.

It had progressed from there. The football team would corner him in secluded parts of the school, or on when he was walking home. Sam would've easily been able to fight off up to three of the much larger boys, but there were many more then three boys on the team. He had eventually stopped even trying to get away from them.

Then there were the girls. They liked to corner him too. In janitor's closets, hallway corners, with the football team on the way home; where ever they could.

What they did was even worse then the football team beating him up. They always _always_ had a couple of the biggest jocks with them when they found him. The jocks would hold his arms behind his back while the girls attacked him mouth with kisses. Sometimes they slipped their hands down his pants and all he could do was pray that they would leave him alone soon. It never happened though. Apparently he was very "cute" to the girls. Since he wouldn't date any of them they decided to just take what they wanted.

The geeky kids who didn't like him would pick up his backpack when the jocks were beating him up. They would take his homework, making it look like he had never done the assigned work. After a few weeks of that Sam had started making two copies of all his work. One copy went in his bag, and the other was hidden in one of the many hidden pockets in his jackets or backpack. He even cut the soles of his shoes to make a new hiding place. After awhile this maneuver wasn't needed anymore because he handed in his homework at a different time from everyone else.

Normally he would have been sure of Dean's support, Dean's worry, when he learned his book worm baby brother wasn't doing his homework, but right now he didn't really know where he stood with Dean.

He couldn't remember anything he had done to make his big brother angry at him, but it was obvious that Dean wasn't pleased. They hardly talked anymore. Dean had insisted they get a big enough house that both boys would have their own rooms for the first time ever.

For most teens this would've been a great relief. Not a lot of fifteen year olds would like to admit that they were scared to sleep without being able to hear their big brother breathing. So Sam stayed quite.

That was the first time Sam had stayed quiet. Now it was a habit.

The first time he had come home without boxers because they were doing a swimming unit and PE and someone had taken them there was no Dean to notice. So Sam had stayed quiet.

The first time he came home with bruises all over his chest (and a couple rather crooked looking ribs) there was no Dean to notice. So Sam stayed quiet.

The first time Sam came home with bruised lips and finger nail marks on his temples there was no Dean to notice. So Sam stayed quiet.

He had started experiencing problems sleeping without Dean there. Whenever he couldn't sleep before he would climb in with Dean. The one time he had tried doing that he had gotten all the way to Dean's door before he heard the noises coming from inside. His brother might think he was completely naive, but Sam knew the noises people made when they were in the middle passion. On the upside, he now knew why Dean wanted his own room.

So Sam had looked up reasons for having trouble sleeping on the computer at the school library. He had discovered he had insomnia. He didn't try to fix this problem, though. In fact, he was starting to think of it as a blessing, no matter how tired he got.

Having to do all his homework twice was taking time that he didn't have to give up.

He was expected to get up at five thirty in the morning to complete his father's work out program.

After that was a shower, breakfast (which he skipped), and a run to school. He wouldn't make it if he didn't run.

During the school day he dealt with all the many problems he was having there. This had recently been expanded to include a gym teacher who pushed him extra hard because he thought Sam was slacking off. It was like having his father as a gym coach. He was convinced that the teacher _had_ to have been a marine at one point in his life.

The other kids took turns stealing his lunch money, so he was getting dangerously thin. He wasn't hungry, though, no matter how long he went without food.

During the first few weeks he had detention for not doing his homework (he told Dean he had joined a club at school) but now he turned it in at a different time then the other kids so it was no longer a problem.

Most of the time the teachers seemed to see he was going through a hard time and went easy on him. He knew most of them wanted to say something to his family, but were afraid of making things worse for him. That fear probably originated from his terrified expression whenever anyone mentioned talking to his father. He didn't even want to _think_ about what the man would do if he found out how weak Sam was.

Once he was done getting beat up on his way home, he had to run to be there by the specified time. He got home at around five, and his brother and father expected him to have dinner done and the dishes from cooking washed by five thirty.

After dinner he was expected to spend the time until eight thirty doing something that included hunting. This could be cleaning guns, researching, or more physical training.

After that he did the rest of the household chores. Not because he wanted to, or because anyone had ordered him to, but because someone had to. Dean and his father obviously didn't give a crap, so that job always fell on Sam.

He was supposed to have all his homework done before twelve at the latest, but that wasn't going to happen when he had to do it all twice.

Then he had to get up the next day and do it all over again.

Sam's life had always been hard, but now it was impossible. He didn't think his father or brother realized exactly how much the expected him to do.

They hunted on weekends or nights. On days when they hunted at night Sam was given the time from six (when dinner was done) to around nine (when it got dark) to do his homework. He almost always had to squeeze in more work after the hunt.

He also made sure his big brother and father never noticed any of the injuries he got at school or hunting. He didn't want to have to explain to his father how he had allowed a couple bullies to break a couple of his ribs, his left thumb, a couple toes, and a small bone in his right ankle that made running agony. So that meant his family couldn't see him without a shirt. This also meant that he had to patch up any injuries he got from a hunt by himself.

As far as Dean and their father knew, he was having an uncharacteristic lucky streak where getting hurt was concerned.

As far as Sam knew, he had a minor concussion (yes, he _did_ know that was a very dangerous thing to conceal from his family), around five broken ribs, slashes across his chest (they stung like hell and bled a lot, even if they weren't all that deep), a broken left thumb (handling a gun and cooking got harder every day), three broken toes on his left foot, a broken ankle, and he was starting to get sick. Needless to say, he was in agony constantly. He also had cuts all over himself because he kept dropping knives when he was cleaning them or practicing. He wasn't normally that clumsy, but his exhaustion combined with the pain was making him do more stupid thing then he had ever done before. That didn't even include the bruises, which he knew covered about ninety percent of his body. There was also an odd, deep, and painful ache in his sternum.

But not everything about this town was horrible. He liked his teachers, often staying as late after school as he dared to complete work with them watching on. They would help him, never seeming to mind that they had to stay late to do so.

And then there was his secret. Sometime around a week after the arrived in the town he thought maybe a walk would help him clear his head and go to sleep. He had ended up at the bar nearest his house. He hadn't meant to go in, but it was karaoke night, and he loved to sing.

Someone had been singing when he passed by, and whoever they were, they were horrible. He learned that it was the bar's regular singer. Apparently this particular bar only did live music. The locals wouldn't stand for anything else, but they didn't have any decent singers either.

The town was a small town, and they didn't seem to think much of following the laws as long as no one got hurt. So Sam had accidentally found his way in, and before he knew what was happening he was up on the stage. The fact that he was underage didn't seem to matter to anyone. Anytime a cop came in they were either entranced by Sam's voice, or he was hidden amongst the locals before anyone could blink. Eventually all the cops just got used to him being there.

It wasn't like he was the only underage person they let in either. The bar let in anyone over the age of eighteen, so Sam was still the youngest. The only stipulation they had was that you didn't drink any alcohol unless you were overage.

Getting drunk was considered a disgrace and would end with you being band from the bar for a year, so the most anyone ever got was tipsy. There were no other bars within a half an hour of the town, and no one wanted to be kicked out.

From there everything had snowballed. The town's people discovered he was a ventriloquist, and he found himself singing every night from about ten thirty to twelve. Yes, it took time away form when he could be doing homework, but at is also helped him release his emotions in a non harmful way.

Before this town he had just gone to Dean and talked it all out. Now Dean didn't seem to give a shit about him, so he had to find another way. His butterfly knife had actually started looking pretty tempting for awhile, until someone suggested he write a song.

Next thing he knew he had a full band at his command and some of his songs were on regular request at the bar. This was his escape. The one thing that kept him sane in the madness he called his life.

After he sang Sam would sit at one of the tables and do his homework. He had free sodas from the bar tender for making his business so much more successful, and several of the locals would help as much as they could with his work. At first a couple even offered to copy his answers over again for him sometimes so he didn't have to do things twice. It made everything so much easier.

All his teachers were nightly patrons of the bar, so they were always a huge help.

The few times he had fallen asleep at the bar he had been carried to a bed in the back. He made fast friends with several of the people who had just graduated school, almost making them a replacement for Dean. The whole town seemed to adore him. Almost all of the patrons of the bar seemed to view him as their little boy. They all thought of him as a son, beloved nephew, or little brother.

Since the _entire_ town went to the bar, there was no one Sam didn't know by name. There was no one in the town who didn't consider him some kind of relation.

The bar tender Carl had taken a special interest in him, and treated him especially like a son. Sometimes Carl went so far as to call him son. Sam couldn't even remember the last time his own father had addressed him that way. It made him feel special and loved.

None of the towns people knew what their children did to Sam at school. If they had Sam did want to think about what would happen to their young offspring. He never wanted to get any one in trouble, no matter how much he didn't like them. That would draw unwanted attention to him.

They treated Sam like their youngest; a little boy who needed to be spoiled and cuddled.

Half the time he would end up doing his homework on someone's lap. When he was done with the work his teachers would take it immediately. The geeks at school thought he had just given up doing his homework.

And the best part was that they liked him for _him_. They didn't like his researching skills, or that he could do two hundred push-ups and run five miles at top speed without making himself out of breath. They didn't like him because he was brilliant and could solve their problems. They liked his personality, his songs, and his willingness to always listen to their problems.

They had been in this town for almost half a year; longer then Sam could ever remember staying anywhere in his life. His father and brother often left him and drove a couple states over to hunt something.

The town knew his family was hardly ever there, and that created a bit of resentment towards them. No one seemed to think Sam should be on his own like that. Half the time Carl would insist he stay at the bar when his family wasn't home. People weren't worried that someone would try to mug him; there were no criminals to do so. They just didn't like the thought of him alone in the dark, yet another indication of how much they thought about him as a little boy.

Sam didn't really care about Dean and his father. _They _didn't care about him, so why should _he_ care about _them_? At least, that's what he told himself.

Little did he know his life was about to take another drastic change. He didn't know that this change was walking through the door to the bar at this very moment.

It was karaoke night again, and the man Sam had bumped out of place as the most regular singer was trying his voice again. Sam didn't mind; he liked Ralph. Several other people, however, were more then anxious for Sam's return to the stage.

For Sam it was just any other night.

For Dean, it was the night he would learn just how well his baby brother could keep secrets.

**So we get to see what's up with Dean next chapter. This was kind of hard for me to write, but the next one was much easier. I'm posting both of them today if I can. I'm having a lot of computer trouble, so it's iffy.**

**I bit of a warning, this story includes some songs that have swearing in them. Music is my muse; it inspires me more then _anything_ else in the world. I tend to listen to pop, rock, and heavy metal; mostly Dean music I think. I like three days grace, Lincoln park, evenessence (sp?), paramour, avril lavgine, taylor swift, rise against, manifest, eminien, things like that. My music is _very_ diverse.**

**For this fic I think I'm mostly going to stick with Three Days Grace and Breaking Benjamin. Their songs seem to capture how I picture Sam as feeling during this time.**


	2. Chapter 2 Big Brothers Always Learn

**I don't own supernatural. There's a song called Until the End by Breaking Benjamin in this chapter; I don't own that either. The song has one swear word in it (I think) so if you don't like that don't look it up.**

Chapter 2 Big Brothers Always Learn

Dean was uneasy. He didn't like going to the bar closest to his house. Some of the neighbors knew he was of drinking age yet, and he might encounter a few of them there.

He didn't understand why Kylie was dragging him here anyway. A bar was a bar, right?

But she insisted that there was something different here.

He had asked her to go somewhere else, reminded her that plenty of people around here knew he was underage, but she said they wouldn't care and literally _dragged_ him in.

She wouldn't tell him why she was so eager to attend this _particular_ bar. The only thing Dean knew was that they had to get there before twelve o'clock for some reason. She had actually freaked out when she realized how late it was. It was eleven fifty, and she was looking worried that she had missed whatever it was that she had wanted to show him.

She whispered something into a man's ear, and he replied in the same low tone.

Dean had just gotten home from another hunt, and if he couldn't _get some_ then he wanted to go to bed.

Sam had been odd lately. Dean was busy with work, and hardly ever saw his little brother. When he did see Sam, his younger brother looked tired and maybe even a little pained. He was withdrawn, exhausted, and skinny. It was worrying Dean, no matter how much his father assured him it was normal for teenagers. Besides, he thought he had seen the fading signs of a black eye on his baby brother's face.

He was going to say something to Sam tomorrow, no matter how much the little boy tried to avoid him. It would be Saturday, so Sam would have no excuse not to spend the whole day with him.

Whatever answer Kylie had gotten seemed to make her happy, because she was practically glowing when she turned to Dean.

"You'll like this," she assured him. "He's just amazing. Sings exactly the kind of songs you like listening to."

She had brought him here to listen to someone singing? Why hadn't she just played the song for him?

He would listen, but he didn't expect to be impressed.

All these thoughts flew out of his head the second he saw exactly _who_ was walking onto the stage.

His baby brother was dressed in his typical over shirt and blue jeans; nothing special, and certainly not something that would normally stun Dean. No, what stunned him was the fact that Sam was carrying a microphone, and the locals were cheering him on like he was a regular.

"So, this is my last song of the night," the boy who looked like Sam said. It was _Sam's_ voice that issued from the child. This was _Dean's_ baby brother on that stage! "Anyone have any requests?"

He seemed so at ease up there on that stage that Dean knew his brother had to have been doing this for awhile. Sam was shy, and normally avoided crowds like the plague. To see him so confident was mind blowing for Dean.

How had he not noticed his brother was sneaking out? Sure, he wasn't home much, and when he was he was working, training, or doing the unmentionable with a girl, but surely he would've noticed if his baby had snuck out?

His father had told him to lay off being so protective of his brother. He told Dean that he couldn't baby Sam forever. Told Dean that doing so was going to get Sam killed.

John had known that card would get Dean to do as he asked. Dean would do _anything_ for Sam, even if meant making both of them miserable in the short term.

Dean had started working and training obsessively to get his mind off what he would normally be doing with Sam.

He couldn't sleep without being able to hear Sam breathing either. He had started bringing girls home so he could pretend it was Sam's breathing in the bed next to him. Not that he wanted to do the same things he did to the girls to Sam, but he couldn't remember the last time he had fallen asleep without being able to hear his little brother sleeping in the next bed. Hell, half the time Sam still ended up in his bed, either from a nightmare or because he couldn't sleep.

And then his father had started pulling him away for hunts. He loathed leaving Sam home alone. Intellectually he knew Sam could take care of himself, but in Dean's head he was still the baby Dean had taught the alphabet to. He had to protect and cherish something so small and fragile.

But his father had insisted he needed help with the hunts. Dean didn't want his father hurt, so he did as he was told and accompanied the older man half way across the country. He got panic attacks sometimes, realizing how far he was from his Sammy; that he wouldn't be able to do anything if Sam needed help.

Before this town Dean would sit Sam in his lap every night after all their hunting duties were done. They would do Sam's homework and then just and talk until bed time. Sometimes Sam would fall asleep on Dean and the older boy would carry his baby to bed. He didn't care how chick-flick this was, or about the fact that Sam was technically _John's_ baby.

In Dean's mind their father had given up any rights he had to be called Sam's father when he left five year old Dean alone with the one year old baby for a full month. During that time Dean had to be the man in the house, making sure Sam was fed, bathed, and had clothes.

It was also during that time that Sam had started talking. His first word had been odd for most babies. Most babies would say dada, but Sam insisted on proving his intelligence very early in life by saying Daddy. And this word hadn't been directed at the picture of their father he was always showing Sam. It had been directed at him. It took him _forever_ to train Sam out of calling him that, and he was only glad Sam had started talking very soon after John left so he had the time he needed.

Sam calling him Daddy had solidified for Dean exactly what role he would be playing in his baby brother's life. It made him feel so special when Sam called him that. Sam would still do it sometimes, when he was so sick or upset that he wasn't paying attention. Dean knew _exactly_ who his brother looked to as a father, and it wasn't John.

So screw what his father said; he was going to be having an _extremely_ long and detailed talk with Sam about what _his_ little boy had been getting up to lately.

Kylie's hand shot into the air, and Dean did his best to blend into the crowd so Sam didn't notice him. It wasn't hard; his brother had eyes only for Kylie.

"Yeah Kylie?" Sam smiled.

Dean wondered how Sam knew her name.

"Until the End," Kylie requested. Dean had never heard of a song with that name before. "He makes them up," Kylie muttered into his ear when she saw his confusion.

Sam smiled. "Until the End it is then," he declared.

The band started up instantly, and Dean was stunned by the type of music Sam wrote. It was _his_ type of music. Heavy rock.

"_So cleaver, whatever,"_

Sam began, and it wasn't _his_ voice coming out of his mouth,

"Ventriloquist," Kylie commented into his ear again.

Dean hadn't known his baby brother was a ventriloquist. Then again, he hadn't known his baby brother sang at bars either. He _had _known he shouldn't have backed off like his father ordered him to.

"_I'm done with these endeavors_

_Alone I walk the winding way,"_

And Dean got a glimpse into how his brother had been feeling lately. _Alone_. Dean had never meant for Sam to feel alone.

"_(here I stay)"_

A background singer added in. Dean wondered exactly how long Sam had been doing this. It had to be quiet awhile if the band knew the song and Sam had written it.

"_It's over,_

_No longer,_

_I feel it growing stronger,_

_I live to die another day,_

_Unit I fade away."_

This left Dean feeling extremely worried. _That_ was what his Sammy was feeling like? How had things gotten so bad with out him noticing?

Dean wondered what was over. Was Sam feeling like his relationship with his family was completely ruined? Was it something else?

Their father had made certain to keep Dean as far from Sam as he could lately, but that didn't mean Dean didn't feel guilty as hell for letting Sam get so far away from him.

John would keep Dean from leaving the garage where they worked in the day time to pick up Sam from school. He said a walk couldn't hurt the boy.

Then he would keep them training separately until Sam went to do his homework. After that John would practically _shove_ him out the door with instructions to go to the next town over and find a girl.

He would stay out late and bring the girl home sometimes, knowing that his father would shove him right back out again if he came home too early.

Dean hardly ever even _saw_ his younger brother lately. He didn't understand why his father was so desperate to toughen Sam up (as he said he was doing) but that was going to end now. He was going to tell John exactly _where_ he could shove it.

"_Why give up, why give in?_

_It's not enough, it never is._

_So I will go on until the end."_

Dean could easily see Sam feeling that way. It always seemed like no matter how hard Sammy worked it was never enough for their father.

But Sam always persevered. He never let John get to him. Dean didn't raise his baby to be a quitter.

"_We've become desolate,_

_It's not enough, it never is._

_But I will go on until the end._

_Surround me,_

_It's easy,_

_To fall apart completely,"_

Even more concern rushed through Dean. Sam had always been so strong. There was never any possibility of him _ever_ falling apart.

And what was surrounding him? Was it figurative? Was all that Sam was doing finally wearing him down, making him over tired? Or were _people_ doing something to him?

"_I feel you creeping up again._

_(in my head)"_

Dean got the distinct feeling that the background singer's line was a complete lie. What ever was creeping up on Sam, it wasn't in his head.

"_It's over,_

_No longer, _

_I feel it growing colder._

_I knew this day would come to end,_

_So let this life begin."_

Chills ran up and down Dean's spine. The song was scaring him. Sam was cold. Cold used in this context reminded Dean of all the dead bodies he'd seen. This number was quite large, and even _thinking_ of his Sammy like that made him want to panic.

And what life was the little boy talking about? A life without Dean's support? He was feeling more guilty every second. He should've _seen_ these things. He should've _known _somehow.

"_Why give up, why give in?_

_It's no enough, _

_it never is,_

_So I will go on until the end._

_We've become desolate,_

_It's not enough,_

_It never is,_

_But I will go on until the end._

_I've lost my way,_

_I've lost my way,_

_But I will go on until the end."_

That settled it for Dean that this was about family. Family was the one thing Sam knew he could always turn to; the one thing he _knew_ would always be there for him. _Dean_ was Sam's family; no one else. And Dean hadn't been there lately. Sam was lost.

"_Living is,_

_Hard enough,_

_Without you f**** up."_

Dean was pretty sure that part wasn't directed at him. Sam never swore at him, no matter how angry his little brother got with him.

So that meant his baby was having problems with something other then Dean's disgustingly neglectful (in his own opinion) behavior lately. Whoever had hurt his brother had better hope they never met him.

His protective instincts were kicking in stronger then they ever had been before. Sam would be lucky if he could get Dean to leave him alone to walk around the block for awhile. Dean planned on making up for lost time, and with the summer coming up he knew he could do it.

He would be quitting his job soon; his brother needed him more then the mechanic in a town so small that half the people didn't even own cars.

Music played for awhile, and Dean took the opportunity to ask Kylie something that had been bothering him.

"Does he write the music too, or just the lyrics?" he asked.

"Both," Kylie answered, obviously awed by Sam's skill. Dean couldn't blame her; he was fairly awed too.

"_Why give up, why give in?_

_It's not enough,_

_It never is,_

_So I will go on until the end._

_We've become desolate,_

_It's not enough,_

_It never is,_

_But I will go on until the end._

_I've lost my way,_

_I've lost my way,_

_But I will go on until the end._

_Ohhh ohhh ohhh,_

_Ohhh ohhh ohhh,_

_The final fight I'll win,_

_The final fight I'll win,_

_The final fight I'll win,_

_And I will go on until the end."_

At least Dean was now assured that Sam wasn't giving up. God he had screwed up this time. _Why_ had he done as his father ordered?

And then it was done, and Sam was leaving the stage. Dean watched his baby with sorrowful eyes.

"You know him," Kylie observed.

"He's my baby brother," Dean whispered. "God, I knew I shouldn't have listened to Dad," he added brokenly, putting a hand over his eyes.

"He wanted to toughen Sam up. Told me that my babying Sam was going to get him killed. I will do _anything_ for Sam; _anything_. I didn't like cutting myself off from him, and now I see it was a terrible mistake."

He didn't know why he was telling all this to Kylie.

"How long has he been coming here?" he asked.

"You answer my question, and I'll answer yours," Kylie proposed.

"Depends on what your question is," Dean deliberated.

"Are you hunters? Everyone in town thinks you are, but we don't want to ask Sam incase he doesn't know about it."

That was the _last_ thing Dean had expected her to ask, but he answered anyways. "How do you know about hunters?" he asked guardedly. So maybe he didn't really answer.

"We had a couple hunters here a while ago. They killed a shapeshifter in front of the whole town. At least we know what's out there now," Kylie finished with a grim look and a shrug.

"Sam's come here every day sense about half a week after you got here," she added. "Everyone loves him. I don't think there's one person here who wouldn't willingly take him into their house. Hell, I think Carl's even got adoption papers for Sam to sign if we ever learn that you're doing more then just neglecting him."

"Wow," Dean breathed. "I need to talk to him. I'm taking him home. Do you mind getting home yourself?" he asked.

"Course not," Kylie answered playfully. "We did drive _my_ car here, you know." Suddenly she became more serious. "I'm warning you right now though; you hurt my baby brother again, and monsters will be the least of your worries."

How such a small girl could pull of being so intimidating didn't have a clue, but she did manage it.

"I won't hurt him," Dean promised. "Sammy has his big brother back now, and he isn't losing me again." It was as much of a promise to himself as it was to her.

"Good," she smiled. "Now get your ass over there and take your brother home."

"Thank," he said, meeting her eyes squarely.

She just smiled and vanished into the crowd.

_**Supernatural **_

Dean approached Sam from behind through the crowd. His little brother was sitting at a table with his school books spread all over the table. Several adults were sitting near him, playing the role Dean usually did during homework time.

"Sammy," he said, his hand landing on his brother's shoulder from behind.

The boy spun in his seat so fast that Dean had to steady him to keep him from falling.

"Dean?" he whispered, his eyes wide with fear.

It broke Dean's heart that his baby was afraid of him. Sammy was _his_ and it was time both Sammy and John learned that.

"It's time to go, little brother," he commanded softly.

Sammy didn't argue; he simply gathered his things and said his many goodbyes.

"I'll be back tomorrow, if I can," he promised. "Will you be here tomorrow, Mrs. Smith? I still need a little help with that math assignment."

"Of course Sam," the women smiled at him.

"Common Sammy," Dean coaxed. He took his baby brother's left hand to lead him out, not caring how much that made Sam feel like a baby.

He _was_ a baby. He was _Dean's_ baby. And it was time the world learned that.

Dean walked at a normal pace (for him) out of the bar and towards their house. They _had_ to walk because, like Kylie said, Dean didn't have a car with him.

He was thinking about how he was going to make everything ok with Sam again. First thing he was going to do was have a talk with him. Then-

"De….slow down, _please_," he heard a small voice begging. "I can't keep up."

A funny look passed over Dean's face. How long had it been since Sam called him De? Much too long. And it gave him a glimpse of exactly how much something was wrong with Sam. Sam didn't say "De" unless he was half asleep, very tired, sick, or in a lot of pain, or was feeling playful.

He realized the pace he had set would be normal for him, but for his much shorter brother it must have been very fast.

He also realized Sam was walking with the slightest limp. He would be finding out what that was about tonight.

Dean had thought Sam would've hit his growth spurt by now, but his baby brother hadn't. He remained just as small as he had been when he was around eight. Dean knew he had to start growing again soon, but while Sam was so small he was going to be taking advantage of it.

He swung Sam up into his arms, holding his brother on his hip like he had when Sammy was a toddler. Sam gave a squeak of surprise, but didn't protest. It might have been because he didn't want to be in anymore trouble then he was already in, but it still made Dean worry.

He worried even more when he felt small arms wrap around his neck and Sam's head fall onto his shoulder.

_Why_ had he let things get this far?

He carried Sam the rest of the way home, not bothered at all by his little boy's nearly nonexistent weight.

No words passed between them during the walk. Dean got the feeling that Sam was preparing to be scolded and severely punished. If Dean had been John then maybe Sam would've been, but Dean was never letting himself turn into his dad. He had come close this time, but never again.

_Never again_…..

**So I know the song wasn't really Sam's type of music, but it's _my _type of music, and the lyrics fit so…**

**I seriously _love _this story. It's so much fun to write. I hope you guys are all enjoying it as much as I am.**

**Thoughts?**


	3. Chapter 3 Laying Down the Law

**I don't own supernatural**

**I want to say that I know Sam acts childish and spac****ey** **in this chapter, but there **_**is**_** a reason for that that isn't mentioned in this chapter.**

**There are also a couple mentions of corporal punishment (or spanking) in this chapter. It isn't anything big or explicit. It also isn't actually necessary for this chapter, but I'm kind of trying to establish Sam and Dean's relationship here, and it helped. You can skip it if you want. It's in paragraphs 4 and 5. **

Chapter 3 Laying Down the Law

Sam felt like such a child in Dean's strong arms. He knew he looked like a toddler when he was carried, but couldn't find it in him to care. He was tired, and Dean had been pulling his bad hand. His toes and ankle hurt from trying keep up with his much taller brother, and he was more at peace now then he had been for six months.

But all good things had to come to an end.

When they arrived at the door to their apartment Dean put him down again. He was just beginning to mourn the loss of contact with his big brother, when Dean took his hand again (thankfully his right one this time) and tugged him gently inside.

Sam had no idea what to expect. The last time he had snuck out during the night he was eight. He couldn't sleep (like the night he had found the bar), so he had left the motel room for a walk.

Dean had woken up to find him gone, and freaked out. As soon as he found Sam Dean had dragged him back to the motel with a hug and a few firm swats. When they got back to the room Sam didn't even have time to explain before Dean had tipped him over his knee.

Sam never forgot that spanking, not so much because it hurt, but because Dean was so panicked when he gave it. His big brother had held Sam on his lap for the whole rest of that night, hugging him so tightly it almost hurt. It was one of the few times Sam had ever seen Dean cry.

Sam sincerely hoped he wasn't going to be spanked again tonight. He tended to curl into a ball when the jocks were beating him up, so he had quite a few bruises in sensitive areas already. Not that he thought Dean would bruise him, but it would hurt a lot more if Dean so much as gave him a playful swat.

Before tonight he would've protested that he was too old for a spanking, but he had just been led by his hand and _carried_ home; he didn't have much of a claim to go on there.

Besides, Dean looked so upset. Sam would do anything to erase that look from his brother's face.

Dean led him to his room before letting go of his hand. "Get pajamas on," Dean ordered quietly, speaking for the first time since the bar.

Sam moved silently around the room, gathering his clothes. He almost started getting dressed, but then noticed Dean was still there. He looked at his brother expectantly for a few seconds.

"What?" Dean asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"You wanted me to change," Sam specified.

"Yeah," Dean answered uncomprehendingly. Dean had seen him naked hundreds of times. Hell, Dean had changed his diapers! But Sam didn't want Dean to see what bad shape he was in.

"You're still here," Sam explained patiently.

"So?" Dean questioned.

"Look, can you _please_ just let me get dressed by myself?" he half begged.

He could practically see the gears turning in Dean's head. His big brother eventually gave in.

"Fine," he agreed. "Come to my room when you're finished."

Sam nodded and wondered what Dean was planning. It wouldn't be anything good for his secret, he was sure.

He dressed quickly in sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and a hoody, carefully making sure all the bandages he had wound around his many wounds didn't need to be changed. The last thing he wanted was for them to start bleeding through while he was talking to Dean.

He made his way silently through the house to Dean's room; his bare feet making no noise against the carpeted floor. He let himself into Dean's room without bothering to knock before entering. He didn't want to wake up their father.

Dean was sitting on his bed when Sam entered, still fully clothed. It made Sam feel even younger and smaller to be wearing pajamas when he was in trouble and Dean was fully clothed.

Dean beckoned him over. Sam walked to him and was pulled to stand in between Dean's knees. He was so damn short that he _still_ wasn't on eye level with his big brother.

Sam studied the floor until Dean's hand under his chin forced him to look up. He felt like a naughty toddler who deserved to be soundly spanked and sent to bed early. It wasn't early, of course, but that didn't change how he felt.

"Before we go any further with this I am going to make a few things completely clear," Dean started. "The first thing is that whatever happened to you, it wasn't your fault. It was my fault for listening to Dad over my instinct, it was Dad's fault for starting this whole little experiment in the first place, and it was whoever hurt you's fault because they didn't _have_ to hurt you."

Sam (who had been trying to keep his eyes on the floor even with his check cupped in Dean's hand) suddenly looked up in surprise and met his brother's eyes dead on.

"Wh-what?" he stuttered. "No one's hurt me. I'm-I'm fine," Sam tried to insist.

"Yeah, tell it to someone who can't see through your lies, Sammy," Dean smiled slightly sadly.

Sam tried to drop his eyes again.

"Hey now, none of that," Dean coaxed, nudging Sam's check lightly until Sam looked at him again.

"The second thing I'm going to make clear is that you are mine. Dad can just go screw himself on a nail if he thinks he's going to be able to tell me to back off again. You've obviously been having a hard time lately, and you haven't felt comfortable coming to me. You wouldn't _believe_ how sorry I am about that, but it's going to change."

"It time for you, Dad, and the rest of the world to understand that you are _mine_," Dean stated firmly.

"What?" Sam asked. "What was Dad's experiment?"

"He made me back off. He told me to stop babying you or I was going to get you killed. He made sure our training was done in separate parts of the house, didn't let me off work in time to pick you up from school, and practically _pushed_ me out of the house every night. Next time he tries I'm going to punch him."

Sam stared at him with an open mouth. "So I didn't do anything to make you mad?" he confirmed, feeling ridiculously hopefully. If it was his father's fault he could easily forgive Dean. He knew how much Dean respected the man.

"What!" Dean inquired in horror. "No, you didn't do anything to make me mad Sammy!"

A great weight lifted off Sam's shoulders. He never _could_ stand Dean being angry with him.

He threw his arms around his big brother's neck and hugged Dean as tightly as he could. Dean's arms came up around him too, encircling his dangerously thin form easily. He felt himself being lifted in the air, and soon found himself sitting on Dean's knee.

He sighed in relief as his weight was taken off his sore ankle and toes again.

"So I think there are some injuries that you need to tell me about, Sammy," Dean informed him.

"Dean-" Sam sighed.

"There is no _possible_ way you can tell me that you're fine," Dean said sternly. "You have the tail end of a black eye, and you're limping."

Sam looked down again.

It was Dean's turn to sigh. He put his hand under Sam's chin again and tipped it up.

"Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to do a search?" he asked.

Sam was conflicted. On one hand, if he told Dean had a broken ankle and a couple broken toes, then Dean would insist on Sam telling him where he had gotten them. On the other hand, if Sam refused to tell Dean anything then his big brother would do a search and find the rest of his injuries.

If he had been able to think clearly it would've been an obvious choice, but with his head pounding the way it was, thinking was next to impossible.

It seemed he had taken to long trying to think, because he found himself being lifted again.

"Right, guess we're doing a search then," Dean decided for him as he set Sam back down on his bed. "We can start with your feet, since there's obviously something wrong there."

He sat on the floor in front of Sam and grabbed Sam's left foot. Sam felt ridiculous, sitting there with his foot in his brother's lap. Dean was in control now, however, and there was no telling Dean 'no'.

Dean carefully pulled off his sock, and Sam knew that his big brother had instantly spotted his broken toes.

"Sam!" Dean breathed. "You don't hide broken bones, Sam!" he rebuked.

"They're just toes," Sam objected, his stomach sinking at the thought of Dean getting to his ribs in this search.

"I don't care!" Dean cried. "They're broken, and you know it. I don't care about Dad's rules when it comes to injuries; you tell me if you get so much as a bruise."

Sam's stomach sank even lower.

"I thought you were mad," he whispered, avoiding the hurt radiating from Dean's eyes.

"So you didn't tell me you had broken bones?" Dean questioned incredulously.

"I didn't know what I'd done _wrong_, Dean. For all I knew you'd just decided you didn't _want_ to take care of me anymore," Sam pleaded, starting to cry.

Dean was there in seconds, gathering Sam into his arms again.

"Never. Never _ever_," Dean pledged, holding back tears of his own. "I don't know if I ever told you this before, Sammy, but there was never a time when I wasn't looking out for you. Even when Mom was alive I always made sure you had what you needed. Dad moved out for a few days once, and I pretty much did everything for you during that time."

"Mom was real cut up over Dad being gone. Didn't know what to do with two kids. So I gave her one kid and one half adult who helped her take care of everything."

"I got up sometimes during the night to get a bottle for you," Dean gave a sad grin. "Mom never knew. She always liked to feed you herself, but one night she didn't wake up when you were crying. I got milk out of the fridge, heated it up, and put it in a bottle. It probably wasn't the best food for you, but you'll never know how proud I was when I got to feed you the bottle _I _had made for you. Not even Dad can say he ever did that." Dean's voice was deep and soothing, but so filled with pride that there was no doubt that he really meant what he was saying.

"You were always mine Sammy. You might have been _born_ to Dad, but dad was never your daddy. You wouldn't remember, but your first word was daddy. You were talking to me at the time."

Sam _hadn't_ known that. He could easily believe it though. Dean was always there, always taking care of him and making sure he was alright. Performing the duties other children's father did.

"You still say it sometimes too, when you get upset enough. And this is going to sound really stupid, but having you call me daddy always made me feel so special. _I _was the only one who got to hear you calling them daddy; no one else."

Dean again sounded so full of pride and joy that Sam had no choice but to believe him. Sam hadn't realized he had done that either. It obviously made Dean _very_ happy, though, so maybe he would do it more often now. Dean certainly _looked_ old enough to be his dad.

Sam was small for his age, looking closer to ten or twelve. Dean was big and had a certain aura that made him seem older. It would be easy to see Dean as a young father who made a mistake somewhere in his very upper teens. That would change when Sam got bigger, of course, but for now it was a passable lie.

"You _promise_ you'll never stop caring?" Sam questioned. He knew how young that made him sound, but he was past caring. All he cared about right now was being assured that Dean had cared, still cared, and would _always_ care.

Dean pulled back a little from their hug so their noses were touching. "I promise," he vowed. He briefly rubbed his nose against Sam's, a move from their childhood that made Sam actually _giggle_.

"So, we need to continue with this little search," Dean decided reluctantly.

Sam pouted. He had done so much acting like a little child lately that he really didn't think anything more would change anything. "Don't want to," he protested.

"Don't care," Dean threw back as he set Sam back on the bed again. "You gonna do me the favor of telling me if you have anything else broken in your left foot, or am I gonna have to check it all over?"

"There's nothing else broken in my left foot," Sam conceded. "But it's pretty badly bruised.

"Uh-huh," Dean agreed, checking it over anyway. "What about your right one?"

Sam hesitated, causing Dean to look up at him from where he had reseated himself on the ground.

"How bad?" he asked resignedly.

"I-uh-I _might_ have broken my ankle," he cringed as he waited for Dean's wrath to break over him again.

"I didn't learn about this _might be broken _ankle because….." Dean trailed off, obviously expecting Sam to pick up.

"It got to be second nature to just hide everything," Sam responded, realizing a second too late how bad that made things sound.

"Well that just great," Dean said sarcastically. "We're going to be breaking this habit, you realize?"

Sam nodded as Dean took hold of his right foot.

"Sam," Dean exclaimed as he pulled off the sock on that foot too, "this foot is just as bruised as the other one! How the _hell_ are you still walking, let alone running and doing gym like normal?"

Sam shrugged.

Dean sighed. "Where's it broken?" he questioned.

Sam pointed to the area he was pretty sure was broken. He had wound an ace bandage around the afflicted area, so Dean had to remove it to see what Sam was pointing at. Once the bandage was removed Dean gasped horror; the whole area was swollen and purple.

"Sam!" he scolded, more loudly this time.

"You're gonna wake Dad," Sam said, making frantic hushing motions. "Just finish your search before you start your freak out and treat injury routine," he requested of his big brother.

"Fine, but only because I know there's going to be more to treat," Dean conceded eventually.

The search continued with Sam's pants. It was one of the many reasons why Sam always hated it when Dean decided to search him. Dean was _very_ through. He started with Sam's socks, and continued to his pants, and then up to his t-shirt. Dean only ever left him in his boxers. It was almost always used as a punishment for trying to hide an injury.

Sam was very shy and hated being nearly naked in front of anyone, even Dean.

Dean took no notice of this, nor of the fact that Sam was now pretty much half naked in front of him. He was a little bit more preoccupied by the purple, green, blue, and yellow bruises decorating his little brother's legs. There was even a bit of pink and red, just to add variety, as Sam liked to say.

"What _happened _to you?" he asked, aghast for the millionth time that night.

"I ran into a bit of trouble," Sam hedged, avoiding his brother's eyes again.

"No shit Sherlock," Dean breathed. "You know you're eventually going to have to give me an explanation, right?"

"Yeah," Sam gulped.

"Right, then I supposed you can wait until we're done with this."

"It's almost one in the morning," Sam objected.

"And?" Dean questioned uncomprehendingly.

"Don't you think we should, you know, go to bed?" Sam suggested.

"Not with you in this condition," Dean declared determinedly. "I don't want to even _think_ about how long you've been 'having trouble' if these bruises are any indication."

He was right, of course. Sam's bruises were in varying stages of healing with different degrees of severity. No one in school felt the need to go easy on him, even the ones who were younger then him.

The school was so small that only one school was needed for all grades. Sam _should've _been near the top of the chain of command, being one of the oldest, but thanks to all the bullying he was down past even the first graders.

The youngest kids didn't know what was going on because "they couldn't be trusted to keep the secret".

Everyone from sixth grade up knew what the tenth through twelfth graders were doing to Sam, but they were all too afraid to speak up. Apparently before Sam arrived they had been the victims, so he definitely understood where they were coming from. The oldest kids hadn't really cared that they were beating up their siblings.

Their parents never learned about it because they rotated kids so that the bruises could be explained by falling or playing sports.

It was worse for Sam because the kids thought his family didn't care. They could beat on Sam as much as they wanted without being discovered.

Sam didn't understand how the teens had turned out so bad when their parents and younger siblings were amazing.

Some of the kids even slipped him chocolate bars, or threw smiles when the older ones weren't looking. It wasn't much, but it helped Sam get through the day.

Dean continued on with his search, oblivious to Sam's thoughts. He motioned for Sam to take off his hoody, but when he saw his younger brother was no longer paying attention, he removed the garment himself.

Sam's arms were in no better condition then his legs. Thin cuts ran inches long, bruises filled every available piece of skin, and Dean could clearly see that Sam's left thumb was broken.

Sam was so out of it that he didn't even notice Dean's inspection. He was wondering if Dean was ever going to let him out on his own again. Knowing his big brother that answer was almost certainly a big fat "NO!"

He was brought back to the present by Dean's gentle tug on the bottom of his t-shirt. His arms automatically went above his head before he winced and almost pulled them back down at the pain in his chest.

"Hurts?" Dean asked in alarm.

"Little bit of a warning," Sam cautioned. "I have a couple broken ribs and quite a few slashes from the last hunt. I also have something wrong with my sternum."

"What the _hell_ is a sternum?" Dean asked lividly.

"It's the bone in the middle of your chest that connects your ribs together. Kind of hard to explain," Sam replied, motioning to the bone in the very middle of his chest.

"You like this shirt?" Dean questioned. Then he paused. "You know what? Never mind; it's got blood on it."

Sam looked down and saw Dean was quite correct. "Aw dammit," he groaned half heartedly.

Dean was moving around behind him, grabbing something from his bedside drawer. Next thing he knew, Dean was cutting off his shirt.

Sam saw Dean hold his breath as Sam's shirt fell off. He let out his breath in a whoosh when he realized he couldn't see anything through the bandages that Sam had wound around his _entire_ chest.

He carefully set to work cutting these off as well, taking special caution in the places where blood was seeping through.

Once he had Sam completely bare except for his boxers he simply stood there, gaping at the huge wounds through his little brother's chest, the bones sticking out at odd angles, and the bruises that trailed everywhere.

"Um, Dean?" Sam asked. When Dean didn't respond he gently shook his big brother's shoulder. "Are you ok, Dean?" he asked.

"Am I-" Dean spluttered. "Am, _I _ok? Me?" he asked, his voice getting higher and louder at every syllable. "Have you even _looked_ in the mirror lately?" he was yelling now.

"Shhhh," Sam hushed urgently, but it was too late. There were footsteps in the hall, and the next thing Sam knew the door was being thrown open.

Silhouetted against the light behind him, was John Winchester. Boy was Sam ever in for it now.

**Crying is not going to be a regular thing in any of my stories. I read a fic once where it seemed like either Sam or Dean was crying every single chapter, and it drove me nuts. I found it so out of character it wasn't even funny. **

**I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long, but I have two words for you; MOVING SUCKS!**

**We just moved from Wisconsin to Michigan. Not telling you exactly where, 'cause I don't give out my address online. The last month or so has been very stressful for everyone in our family, but we moved into the new house at about twelve thirty last night. Right now I'm sitting on my bed, sucking on a sour cherry dum dum, and listening to "Savior" by Skillet. An odd combination, but I'm lovin' it. I got the biggest room in the whole house because I'm the oldest and my parent would rather have the one with the bathroom. Bonus!**

**Ok, I'm done with my rant now. Hope you enjoyed this. R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4 Dad Finds Out

**I don't own supernatural **

**I _know_ Sam acts like a kid in this one. Skye1963 said they didn't think Sam was very childish in the last one, but towards the end of this one Sam is _really_ childish. I find it adorable for some reason. Shrugs. You have been warned.**

Last time on supernatural:

Silhouetted against the light behind him, was John Winchester. Boy was Sam ever in for it now.

Chapter 4 Dad Finds Out

The sight of their father instantly sent Sam diving over Dean's bed and grabbing the sheet to wrap around himself.

Dean gave a startled and somewhat angry yell at his sudden movement. His baby was _hurt_'; he shouldn't be moving _at all_, let alone so quickly and in such a strenuous way.

John looked around, obviously noting Sam's curly head poking up from the other side of the bed (he was holding the sheet around his shoulders like a cloak) and Dean's flustered face.

If Sam had been any other person Dean was sure his father would've drawn conclusions from Sam's state of undress. As it was he simply looked furious.

"I told you this had to stop, Dean," he rebuked sharply.

"You know what?" Dean asked lividly. "You can just shove it where the sun don't shine."

Sam gapped at him, but Dean felt like himself for the first time in six months. Not that being himself usually included telling his father to shove it, but protecting Sam from _everything_ was always on the agenda. Their father was included in everything.

"Do you have _any idea_ what your _plan_," a word snarled in disgust, "has done to my baby?" Dean continued.

"Did Sam crash your car?" John asked confusedly, his eyes flicking over to Sam.

Dean looked at him blankly for a second, then it seemed to register what his father meant. "This isn't about my car!" he nearly shrieked. "Sam isn't even old enough to drive it yet!"

"Since when has that ever stopped us?" John questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Dean ignored him and stalked over to Sam's side of the bed. He growled angrily as he noticed Sam had managed to tug a few of his cuts the wrong way when he was jumping. The white sheet was beginning to stain crimson in some places with Sam's blood.

He scooped Sam into his arms again (a slightly awkward movement with the sheet in the way and Sam determined to keep it around himself) and carried him back around the bed.

He _could've_ just asked Sam to come back around to him, but he honestly didn't want to Sam walking even a step right now.

He set Sam down on the bed and stood protectively between Sam and their father. "This is about Sam," he announced.

"What about him?" John inquired carelessly. "He's fine," he dismissed.

"You call this fine!" Dean roared, pulling the sheet from Sam as he spoke.

Sam immediately squeaked and tried to dive under the comforter, but Dean grabbed his thin wrist before he was able to. He kept a firm grip on his baby, even while he was taking care not to hurt the little boy any more.

John gapped in abject horror at Sam. Dean could easily see why; Sam looked even worse then before with his blood painting different parts of him crimson.

"What. the. _Hell_, Samuel?" John asked in horror and anger.

Sam fidgeted, but didn't answer. Dean could clearly see the fear on his face.

"Go away," he ordered his father coldly. "Sam and I are going to have a discussion, and I don't think you'll help a lick."

"Excuse me?" John asked incredulously. "Who do you think you are, boy?"

"I _think_," Dean gritted, "that I am the person who's supposed to take care of Sam. You have absolutely _no_ role in his life, aside from drill sergeant. So goodbye," he finished, waving a dismissive hand in his father's direction as a mimic of John's earlier tone.

John didn't move, but Dean was no longer paying any attention to him. He looked over Sam, trying to figure out where he should start patching him up, then decided this was _way _out of his league.

"We're going to the hospital," he declared.

"No!" Sam cried, looking up at him in horror.

"Yes," Dean told him determinedly.

"Please no, Dean," Sam pleaded. "How am I going to explain all this to the doctor?"

"I don't know, but you'd better figure it out," Dean advised. "You could just tell him the truth. Which would be-?" he half questioned.

"I-" Sam seemed to be having some trouble telling Dean. He guessed it was because his Sammy had kept it a secret so long. Sam swallowed thickly, and Dean put a hand on the back of his neck to encourage him.

"The kids at school don't like me," the younger boy finally blurted, and Dean saw red. "That's part of why I never said anything. Dad would be so disappointed if he ever learned I was letting _humans_ beat me up."

Dean discretely gave his father the finger behind Sam's back, then moved to kneel in front of Sam. With his baby brother sitting on the bed and Dean squatting before him Sam was actually taller for once.

Dean gently grabbed Sam's chin and guided it to make Sam meet his eyes again. "You didn't let them do anything, Angel," Dean assured.

He stopped for a second, startled by the name that had slipped pass his own lips.

Angel. It was what his mother had called him. He was her little angel. Now Sam was _his_ little angel. It fit, in an odd sort of way.

"I bet you didn't just lay down and take it, did you?" he continued after a few seconds.

Sam shook his head as much as he could with Dean cupping his check again.

"Then you didn't _let_ them do it. You suffered through what they did to you, yes, but you didn't _let_ them do anything," Dean told him. "Let's get you dressed so I can drive you to the hospital."

Sam barely protested at all as Dean went around his room, gathering up Sam's discarded clothing and grabbing a t-shirt from his own drawer. Dean figured he had gotten through to his baby a little.

He walked back to the bed and rolled up the t-shirt so he could pull it over Sammy's head. His baby had proved earlier that lifting his arms above his head hurt, so Dean wasn't going to let him lift his arms.

He proceeded to help his little brother into the shirt.

"Can do it myself, Dean," Sam told him quietly, still not meeting his eyes.

"Yeah?" Dean asked. "Well guess what? I _want_ to do it," he informed his baby brother as he helped Sam get his arms through the sleeves.

The pants were a bit more of a challenge as Dean didn't want Sam standing at all, and Sam didn't want to be dressed like a baby, but they eventually managed.

Then Dean swept the smaller boy into his arms again, ignoring any and all protests he got.

"You shouldn't have let yourself get into such bad shape that you didn't have a good foot to hobble on if you didn't want to be carried," he hushed Sam gently. He didn't blame Sammy in the least, but he knew it would get the little boy to stop squirming. He didn't want to drop his baby brother.

His father had disappeared off to an unknown location, and as far as Dean was concerned he could stay there.

He carried Sam out to the impala and set him down in the passenger seat, before going around to his side of the car. As soon as he was seated, they were speeding towards the hospital.

_**Supernatural **_

Dean entered through the door to the emergency room, Sam on his hip again. Sam looked unreasonably embarrassed, but then again, Dean hadn't carried him in public since Sammy was ten. He shrugged, figuring that was what all this was about, and moved to the front desk.

"Sam?" the woman behind the desk asked in surprised concern. Her gaze narrowed as it latched onto Dean only to see he was already giving her a suspicious look.

"Hey Sherry," Sam mumbled, mortification clear on his face.

"You know her?" Dean confirmed.

"Yeah, she's a regular at the bar," Sam replied. "I know everyone in the whole town."

"Wow," Dean whistled, clearly impressed.

"Small town, you know," his baby brother muttered in answer.

"Yeah, but still…" Dean trailed off.

"What happened, Sam?" Sherry asked, seemingly deciding that what ever was wrong had nothing to do with Dean.

"He got beat up," Dean said bluntly, his voice infused with fury.

Sherry hesitated. "I hate to ask this, but was it your father?" she questioned.

"What!" Sam cried, stunned. "No!"

Dean was less surprised; he had listened to Kylie earlier.

"Oh good," Sherry sighed. "At least we can tell Carl that he doesn't need the adoption papers for that."

Sam cocked his head in confusion. "What?" he inquired again.

"Never mind," Sherry dismissed. "I'll call Paul."

Seconds later a doctor was hurrying into the room. He was an older man, and very kindly looking. Dean could easily see why the man would choose to be a pediatric doctor. He was the type that would put a child instantly at ease.

"Sam?" he too asked at seeing Dean's baby.

"Hey Paul," the little boy shifted uncomfortably in Deans arms.

Paul recovered quickly from his surprise, another thing that probably put kids at ease.

"Well, come on back then," he invited, motioning to the examination room behind him.

Dean shifted Sam into a position more comfortable for both of them, and followed the doctor. The man obviously hadn't been expecting this, but he allowed Dean to accompany them. Maybe he sensed that Dean wouldn't let _his _Sammy go without him.

"What seems to be the problem?" he questioned.

"Sam said some of the kids at school have been beating him up every day after school. Actually, that isn't precisely what he said, but years of speaking reading into Sam's under-exaggerations have me trained to read between the lines," Dean reconsidered.

Paul looked alarmed. "Not my-?" he began.

"No," Sam answered at once. "Your children are perfectly nice to me. It's only the older ones who are giving me trouble," he assured the man.

"Do you want me to call their parents?" was Paul's next inquiry.

Dean got the distinct feeling that he would be doing so whether Sammy said.

"No!" Sam practically yelled. He calmed down a little and continued. "I don't want to get them in trouble, and besides it isn't that bad."

"Of course it isn't," Dean snorted.

"You're mean," Sam pouted.

"And proud of it," Dean teased back as he set his baby down on the exam table.

"He has a couple broken toes on his left foot, a broken ankle on his right, a broken thumb on his left hand, a couple broken ribs, slashes across his chest from where they apparently got a knife, and little cuts all over from the same thing. He also says there's something wrong with his sternum, whatever the hell that is," Dean reeled off. He had no problem lying about where Sam got the slashes; those bastards deserved whatever they got.

Paul's jaw dropped. "Well," he stuttered eventually as he took in this information. "Let's take a look. Shirt off, Sam," he ordered.

Sam hesitated. "But-" he started.

"We don't have any other choice Sport," Paul said apoplectically.

"But-" Sam tried again.

"Come on, baby boy," Dean coaxed. "He'll make it all better again," he cooed, resorting to talking to Sam like he had when his baby brother was about five.

"Why can't you fix it?" Sam questioned while pouting. Dean wondered if there was a specific reason Sam was acting so babyish, or if it was just because he needed Dean to take charge.

"_Because_, Sammy, Daddy doesn't have the medical knowledge or equipment to fix it," Dean explained patiently. "Please just let Daddy take your shirt off for the nice man," he coaxed. He was surprised Sam was even letting Dean talk to him like this. Normally Sam punched him by this time.

"Fine," Sam pouted.

Dean considered the possibility that his baby had a head injury. It seemed highly likely and would be a good thing to check for.

_**Supernatural**_

Two hours later, Sam was laying in a hospital bed, drugged up to his eyeballs on pain medication. A worried Dean was sitting next to his baby with a slightly heartbroken look on his face.

Sam had a cast on his right ankle, an odd shoe-type thing on his left, a cast on his left arm, and bandages wound around his head and ribs.

Dean had been right about the head injury; apparently Sam had a pretty bad concussion. Sam always got kind of odd when he had a concussion, but the doctor said this one was messing with his emotions and making him act younger.

Dean didn't mind too much. If his baby needed to be indulged in acting like a little kid, then he would make sure Sam could act like a little kid. The concussion was fairly new, so Paul said this behavior was probably just starting and would last for awhile.

Sam was also going to have some problems getting around. Paul wanted him off of his right ankle, but couldn't put him on crutches, because Sam's hand was so messed up. He had broken his thumb in a very bad place, and it was affecting the whole rest of his hand. Hence, the cast.

Dean was quite content just to sit and watch _his_ Sammy sleep, until the door banged open, and John Winchester stood in. Here we go again.

**And that's it for today!**

**The next chapter is the last, but I already have plans for the sequel. It was originally all one story, but I realized it would be better to split it into different parts because of things that happen in the next one. I don't want to give away too much.**

**I've never actually finished a story before, so I'm really excited. **

**I'm listening to "Snow White Queen" by evanescence.**

**So guess who got seasons 1-3 on DVD for their birthday! They got here late because my Mom ordered them off the internet. I literally ran all the way back to the house from the mailbox across the road screaming that "They're here!"**

**I'm such a geek for this show that I managed to get my parents hooked on it too. we watch about two episodes every night, and we're watching the last two of season one tonight.**

**I watch the clips on youtube so much that I can quote the lines along with the characters, even though I've never actually seen the full episodes before.**

**The other day my sister told me "You're redic" as a shortage of ridiculous. I honestly thought she was saying you're a dick. I was like, "whoa, language there."**

**Ok, I'm done with my random rant now. Everybody have a great day/ night/ whatever.**

**What do you think!**


	5. Chapter 5 John Tries and Fails

**I don't own supernatural**

**OMG, last chapter!**

Chapter 5 John Tries and Fails

John Winchester was a devastated man. His oldest son now loathed him, and he honestly didn't blame the boy.

God, he had nearly killed Sam with his instructions to suck it up and deal with it. His son had been _afraid_ to tell anyone that he was getting beat up because he thought John would be mad it him.

It made him physically ill just to think about it.

Now he had to find some way to fix this.

If there even _was_ a way.

_**Supernatural**_

Dean was sitting at Sam's bedside when John burst through the door for the second time that night. He was in _no_ mood to deal with the man right now.

"Go away," he ordered, barely looking up from his baby.

He saw his father hesitate.

"Dean-" the man tried.

"I don't want to hear it. Not all of this is your fault, but you're at least as much to blame as I am. The only reason I'm letting _myself _anywhere Sam is because he's currently being extremely clingy and needs me. You don't have that excuse, so goodbye," Dean monotoned.

"Dean _please_," John begged. That caught Dean's attention; John _n_ever begged.

"What do you want me to do, Dad?" Dean asked sadly. "I've been taking care of Sam since I was _five_. You haven't so much as hugged him since he was two. You have no idea how to deal with him, and he's going to be really fragile for awhile. I really, _really _don't want to take the risk of you hurting him while he's already down."

"Just give me a chance. Please, Dean," he added when it seemed like Dean was gong to turn him down. "Just one chance. That's all I'm asking for."

Dean hesitated. He knew he should trust his judgment, and his judgment was telling him John would simply end up hurting them in the end.

But this was his father. The same father who used to tuck him in and read him bedtime stories when he was three and four.

"Fine," he reluctantly conceded. "One chance that's it."

John nodded with badly covered relief. He waked over to Sam's bedside and palmed the little boy's check.

"What does the doctor say?" he asked.

"Bruises on ninety percent of his body, cuts from where he dropped knives when he was practicing, three broken toes on his left foot, a broken ankle on his right foot, a broken left them which screwed up the whole rest of his hand, several broken _and_ dislocated ribs, slashes through his chest from out last hunt, and a concussion," Dean listed off, hoping he had managed to get everything.

John turned a very interesting shade of green. Dean noted with vague fascination that he had never seen a person turn that color before.

"Go to sleep," John suggested. "Sam's going to be awake in a few hours."

"Absolutely not," Dean declared flatly.

"You just got back from a hunt, Dean. It isn't going to do Sam any good if you keel over from exhaustion on him," John reasoned.

He had Dean there.

Dean reluctantly crawled into bed next to his Sammy. If he _had _to sleep, he would at least sleep where he could still keep an eye on his baby.

His last conscious thought was filled with pleasure as Sam curled into him like he had been doing all his life.

_**Supernatural**_

Sam woke up in Dean's arms for the first time in a long time the next morning.

For awhile he lay there, completely content to just cuddle. He wondered if he should be concerned about his sudden clingyness, then decided to just let Dean deal with it.

Eventually he realized he had to get up for training. He tried to carefully maneuver his way out of the bed without waking Dean.

He should've remembered how impossible that was.

Dean's arm tightened around his waist and pulled him back to his big brother's chest.

"Where're you goin'?" Dean asked without opening his eyes.

"Got training," Sam whispered back, trying to remove Dean's arm and failing epically.

Dean's eyes snapped open instantly at that sentence. "Excuse me?" he asked in an incredulously deadly voice. Only Dean would be able to pull off that mixture of tones. "Repeat that for me please," he growled.

Sam looked at him like he'd gone insane. "I have training today," he reiterated slowly. "I also have school, so I _really_ need to get going.

"I don't _think_ so," Dean snarled, pulling Sam even closer to him. Sam was confused.

"But I _hav_e to," he said puzzledly. "Dad _never_ lets us have a day off."

"You are _insane_ if you think I'm going to let you so much as carry all your own weight," Dean informed him. "You have been officially delegated to bed rest until I deem you well enough to get back up again," he added. "Not the doctor, mind you, because they normally give in to your pushing. You can't get up until _I_ say you can."

"But Dad," Sam started.

"Agrees with your big brother," a deep voice rumbled from the side of the bed.

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin, and certainly would've fallen out of bed if it hadn't been for Dean.

"Dad!" Sam exclaimed, trying to untangle himself from Dean and jump to attention at the Sam time. It was reflex by now.

"Calm down, Sammy!" Dean cried. Surprise mixed with warning in his voice and had Sam settling back down instantly.

Dean then sat them both up and pulled Sam into his lap. Sam settled back against his big brother's chest and found himself snuggling as close as he had when he was five or six. It was nice to just sit like this; it had been awhile.

Maybe that concussion was having more of an effect than he had thought?

He didn't really care, though. He was perfectly happy to snuggle, so he again resolved to let Dean deal with whatever was wrong. After all, Big Brother always knew best.

"We're taking a couple days off of training," John said. "At least 'till you can walk on your own again."

"I can walk on my own now," Sam insisted, feeling weaker than ever. This was what he had been trying to avoid when he didn't tell anyone about this to begin with.

As soon as he got better, his father was going to insist on even more rigorous training, and Sam really didn't think he could handle anything more without completely crumbling under the pressure.

"No, you most certainly can not," Dean stated, seemingly horrified by the simple idea of it. "Paul said you have to be off your feet for at least a month. You can't be on crutches either, because you messed up your whole hand by using the thumb after you broke it. Do you remember _anything_ from last night?" he questioned incredulously when Sam only looked confused.

"After getting to the hospital, not much," Sam admitted. "Last clear thing is talking to Sherry. After that it's all blurred."

"Great," Dean declared sarcastically. "When did you get the concussion? By the way, you're in trouble for not telling me about that one, Mister. Concussions are _not_ something you play around with," Dean scolded.

"I didn't play around with it, Dean. I don't really actually _play_ all that much lately." Sam had a feeling that wasn't quite what Dean meant, but his head was kinda….odd, right now.

"Some kid kicked my head pretty hard yesterday; I think that's when it finally decided I hit it too hard. It feels funny, De," Sam said, putting a hand to his throbbing temple.

"I bet," Dean snorted. His voice was rough, but it was contrasted by gentle hands against Sam's forehead. "You're not running a fever, which means no infections in the cuts. Thank God for that one."

"I wanna go home," Sam whined. "Can we go home now, Deanie?" he pleaded.

"We'll see what the doctor says," Dean said doubtfully.

He probably didn't think Sam was anywhere _near_ well enough to be getting out of this dump. Dean was odd like that.

_**Supernatural**_

Dean hadn't exactly been pleased to wake up to his baby brother trying to get out of bed. Hearing that Sam thought Dean was going to allow him to continue with his normal training….well, let's just say Dean was positive that knock on the head was really impeding Sam's judgment.

That meant Dean was going to have to keep a _very_ close eye on him. Good; now he had an excuse to always be near Sam. Not that he really needed one, but if Dad tried to drag him off on some hunt he could say Sam couldn't be left alone whit his head like this.

Paul walked into the room almost as soon as Dean told Sam they would have to see what the man said about leaving. He was secretly hoping that Paul would order them to stay in the hospital a few more days (Dean didn't even care if Paul made up a completely imaginary reason for doing so) but the look on Paul's face didn't give him much hope.

"Can we leave?" Sam asked, getting straight to the point.

"Be nice, Sammy," Dean admonished. "He might think you don't like him and that's why you want to leave so quickly." Dean was teasing, but Sam, who had practically reverted to a five year old's mind set, took him very seriously.

Sam gasped and looked up a Paul with wide and innocent eyes. "I didn't mean it like that!" he cried. "I'm sorry!"

"Hey," Dean soothed through his alarm. "It's fine, Angel. I was just teasing," he assured.

Sam looked up at him with trust filling his unconscious puppy eyes. "You promise I didn't hurt his feelings?" he questioned.

Why was he acting so young _now? _He had seemed ok when he woke up. Maybe it was triggered by something Dean had done? It would be a good theory to test.

"Why don't you ask _him_?" Dean suggested gently.

"You didn't hurt my feeling, Sport," Paul smiled. "You hit your head pretty hard, huh?"

Sam went to nod and discovered that wasn't a good idea. "Brandon kicked it real hard," he frowned instead.

Paul, Dean, and John exchanged glances. They had one name. It was a start.

"I think you're good to go home as long as you do everything Big Brother says," Paul deliberated. "But you have to _promise_ you'll do everything he says."

Dean wasn't particularly pleased with the idea of Sam being so far away from instant medical help, but he also knew he was almost as good a doctor as anyone you could find in a hospital.

"Thank you," Sam intoned politely. He had always been such a polite little boy. Lord knows where he got it from, cause Dean sure particularly focus on manners when Sammy was younger.

"I promise I'll listen to Dean," his brother pledged, looking up at Dean again. Dean could almost see the stars shining in his baby's eyes as the little boy watched him. It was a little disconcerting to see how high Sammy held Dean in his regard after events lately. It was also heartening and warming to know that his Sammy forgave him without Dean ever having to ask.

"Alright then," Dean agreed. "Time to get you dressed, precious."

John and Paul cautiously exited the room without drawing attention.

"K," Sam agreed. He suddenly giggled. "You sound like that evil witch in the Dorothy movie. 'I'll get you my precious, and your little dog too!'" he mimicked.

Dean stared at him incredulously and wondered just how out of it his baby was. "She says my _pretty_, Sammy, not my precious," he corrected. "And isn't that movie a little girly for you?"

"No," his baby brother pouted. "I _like_ it. It has a happy ending."

"Ok," Dean placated when Sam seemed on the edge of a full on rant about how awesome that movie was. They hadn't seen it in forever because he had deemed it too girly for them. He would have to see if he could convince their father to rent it…..

He helped Sam out of the hospital gown and into his own clothing with little trouble. They were ready to leave the hospital in minutes.

He hoisted his baby onto his hip and started towards the door to Sam's room.

"Daddy?" Sam inquired, pulling at Dean's sleeve to get his big brother's attention. Not that he needed to, since he already had it.

"Yeah Baby?" Dean returned.

Sam's small hands grabbed his face to refocus his gaze on his angel, and Dean stopped walking for fear of running into something.

"I can walk," his Sammy informed him seriously.

"And I can carry you," Dean retaliated. "Besides, the doctor said he doesn't want you walking, which means that the only way you're going to get out of here is being carried. You wanna go back into the room?"

Dean knew he had won; Sam _hated_ hospitals.

"No!" Sammy practically squealed, just like Dean had known he would. "Let's gooooooo," he added, in a tone close to a whine.

"Alright, Angel. Slow down; we're going," Dean laughed, poking Sam's nose. He moved towards the exit again.

_**Supernatural**_

Getting Sam home and situated again had been easy. Getting Sam to understand that he _wasn't_ allowed to go back to school (especially when Sam had been hurt there) was a lot harder.

Sam had whined, complained, and pretty much thrown a temper tantrum. Dean had gotten him to stop by threatening to spank him, but he wouldn't have done it, even if Sam hadn't stopped. His baby was _far_ too hurt for him to be doing anything that would add to his pain.

Sammy didn't call him on his bluff, however, and peace reigned once again.

Getting his baby brother to stop sulking after accepting the banishment of school was even harder. Dean eventually managed, but it had been difficult.

Sam's teachers had told Dean that they had slipped the end of the year tests into Sam's homework, just to see how his baby would do. It didn't count as points towards his final grade, but they had given Sam quite a few extra credit points for it.

Well, it wasn't supposed to count until it was revealed how hurt his Sammy was. Sam had apparently passed the tests with flying colors, so that meant he had also passed the grade.

Sam was very glad of this and forgave Dean for not allowing him out of the house. Dean actually _did_ let him out of the house, but only if Dean was with him. He wasn't taking _any_ chances with Sam's recovery.

During all this time, John stuck around. He helped awkwardly when he could, but his help was always just that; awkward. His presence made Dean's baby uncomfortable which prompted Dean to keep the older man out of the house when he could.

John was sent on grocery runs, movie runs, pain medication runs, to deal with _dicks_ that had hurt his baby brother; anything that got the man out of the house.

So far they hadn't had much luck tracking down any of the kids. The town was so small that all the kids knew each other, and no one was willing to rat anyone out. The only one they had managed to get was the Brandon who had practically kicked Sam's head in.

Dean would've done a fairly good job kicking the kid's own head in, but Dean's boss at the mechanics shop was the child's father. Dean knew the other man well enough to know that the boy would be well and truly made to regret his actions. More so because the mechanic knew Sam and Dean and had taken a shining to both.

Dean wasn't worried, though. Eventually Brandon would slip up and mention who his friends were, one of the other kids would squeal, or he would drag something out of Sam.

They wouldn't leave town until Dean knew every single person who had so much as _touched_ his baby had been punished.

Dean was _very_ firm in this decision. Part of it was because he wanted to make sure the kids wouldn't mess with any other helpless, tiny little brothers. Most of it, however, was his start to proving that Sam was _his_ and no one else's. _No one_ could hurt what was Dean's and walk away without paying the price.

It was two weeks after Sam was released from the hospital when the first break in their new routine occurred.

John was seen pacing the apartment, running his hands through his hair and muttering.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. It wouldn't be long now.

Sure enough, John sat them down the next day to inform them that he was leaving. It was a surprise to neither of them. They had both known that their father wouldn't stick around for long. He never did.

He was going to hunt a possible ghost in Indiana, which was more than a day's drive away. He didn't know when he would get back.

And so Sam and Dean were left alone again with only each other to depend on.

Their father had always treated them like pawns in a game of chess. They were disposable and could be left where ever.

Other people and things treated them like they were play things too. But that was ok, because, hey!, lots of people said life was a game. And now they were playing by Dean's rules.

**I love that ending. I really do. I don't even know where it came from; it just kind of popped into my head one day.**

**It's over! Blinks rapidly. It's my first finished fic.**

**I still want opinions, though, because I'm already starting the sequel. **

**Hope to see you there!**


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